


Far Away As You Could Ever Know

by LadyRhiyana



Series: Step Outside & See (Another World) [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: “Gods, you’re a man now,” Arthur said. “Has it been so long?”Jaime’s bright smile slowly faded. “Eight years,” he said. “A lifetime.” He reached up to grip Arthur’s wrist. “You’ll have heard about the king.”**[An Arthur/Jaime side-story to "Step Outside & See (Another World)"]
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Jaime Lannister
Series: Step Outside & See (Another World) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702138
Comments: 48
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (1) This will make more sense if you have read "Step Outside & See (Another World)". If you haven't, long story short: after the Kingslaying, Jaime time travels into the modern world (Tyrion comes too) and is taken in by Selwyn and Brienne Tarth. While on holiday in Braavos in chapter 13, they stumble into the past again and encounter Ser Arthur and co - and bring them into the future as well.
> 
> (2) In keeping with its companion fic, the title is also from "Passenger", by Powderfinger.
> 
> (3) This is very much a work in progress, so I make no promises as to updates.

As the sun sank into the sea in a blaze of colour, the narrow laneways and canals of Braavos began to hum. Torches were lit, and the sounds of laughter and chattering conversation rose as masked revellers made their way through the city, heading for the great piazza.

Lady Lyanna, holding Prince Jon up to see, drew the curtains aside just for a moment, to catch a glimpse of the outside world. Her face was pale and still, and Arthur could barely remember the wild young maiden he had first seen at Harrenhal, her eyes bright with life and excitement.

It seemed half a lifetime ago.

“Mama, look!” Prince Jon called, waving excitedly. “Lions!”

A dwarf in a red-maned mask raced past, laughing with a tall girl all in blue and gold. An older man trailed behind them, perhaps their father, and a young man in a gold lion mask, tall and lithe with bright golden hair, throwing his head back and laughing in a way that made Arthur’s heart ache.

The world seemed very cold, all of a sudden, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. His vision seemed to blur and double, the costumed revellers blinking in and out of focus, their attire changing between one moment and the next; the calling of the food vendors and the music of the strolling minstrels was suddenly a strange cacophony of the familiar and the strange.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled open the front door and slipped out into the excited throng. If Ser Gerold and Ser Oswald called after him, he paid them no heed – drawn on by the half-caught glimpse of a young golden lion.

 _What madness is this?_ he thought. _It has been eight years. Surely –_

He followed the crowd into the great piazza, threading his way through laughing revellers and whirling dancers, searching, always searching. The sounds of mummers’ plays and skirling music was almost drowned by the shouting and calling of thousands of voices, and he almost despaired – how was he to find one man, in a crowd such as this?

But the crowd parted, for an instant, and he saw a tall young man dancing, his head thrown back, whirling the tall girl around as she laughed.

When the music came to an end, the young man pulled off his mask and shook out his long golden hair – and Arthur caught a glimpse of his face.

Eight long years had passed. Kings and princes had died and dynasties had fallen. But still Arthur recognised him at a glance.

 _I would recognise him anywhere._

“Ser Jaime!” he called.

The young man looked up. It _was_ Jaime Lannister, somehow as careless and untroubled as he had been when Arthur first saw him as a reckless squire – before the white cloak, before everything went so terribly wrong.

_Surely he could not have done it. He could not have killed Aerys, not and still be so free and happy. Surely such a betrayal must have left its mark!_

That handsome, laughing face lit up with welcome and recognition.

“Ser Arthur!” he called out joyfully, and he strode over to Arthur and engulfed him in a tight embrace. Arthur clasped his shoulders when he pulled back.

The eyes were exactly the same, bright and laughing. He had put on muscle and grown into his frame – there was strength and power in him, now; he was no longer a boy. _He must be three and twenty!_

“Gods, you’re a man now,” Arthur said. “Has it been so long?”

Jaime’s bright smile slowly faded. “Eight years,” he said. “A lifetime.” He reached up to grip Arthur’s wrist. “You’ll have heard about the king.”

And _there_ was the shadow. The darkness and remembered horror.

“Brother,” Arthur said quietly, the words almost lost in the crowd. “Brother, come. Tell me what passed. Tell me what you have done.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come away with me,” Jaime said. “There’s so much more to life than the game of thrones.”

He took Jaime and his strange companions back to the house and introduced them to Lady Lyanna and young Prince Jon. Ser Gerold and Ser Oswald looked on Jaime with wondering eyes and embraced him.

“Brother!” they cried. “You have returned to us at last.”

But instead of looking glad, Jaime only looked troubled.

Arthur drew him outside, to a tiny rooftop courtyard where they could speak privately. There, with the stars bright above them and the lights of Braavos spread out below, with the sounds of music and revelry and shrieking laughter rising into the air, he finally spoke the words that he had been holding back for so long.

“I could not believe it,” he said quietly, “when we heard that Ned Stark had ridden unopposed into the throne room, to find Aerys slain and you fled.” He frowned, remembering the shock of the long-ago tidings. “You were our youngest brother, the brightest and most eager of us. Surely you could not be so false.”

Jaime’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing.

“When we heard that you had been released from your vows,” Arthur continued, “it became harder to deny it. But I knew there must have been some greater truth behind it all. The man I knew would not have cast away your honour so wantonly.”

“The man you knew was no more than a boy,” Jaime said. “Green as summer grass – and you left him alone with a madman.”

“Yes.” Arthur looked away. “Yes, Ser Gerold told me of your – concerns.”

“My concerns,” Jaime repeated. He drew in his breath, long and slow, and let it out again – a curiously deliberate action. “Well. It _concerned_ me to watch him laugh as he burned his enemies alive. It _concerned_ me to stand outside the Queen’s chambers, afterwards, and do nothing as she wept and cried for aid. But what of it? It was not my place to judge the king, after all – only to obey him.”

“Jaime,” Arthur said, but the younger man kept talking. 

“It _concerned_ me very much when he started caching wildfire beneath the city. When he began to speak of rising from the ashes as a dragon. When he swore he would leave Robert king of nothing but ashes.”

“What?!” Arthur went very pale. “Surely not even he –”

“He did,” Jaime said. “He would have done it, too – if I hadn’t run him through and then slit his throat, for good measure.”

Arthur froze. He lifted his hand, made a helpless gesture –

Jaime only smiled, sharp and vicious. “Well, brother?” he asked. “What would you have done?”

**

There was no easy answer to that question.

Instead, he asked: “Jaime. Where have you _been_ for eight years?”

Caught off guard, Jaime stared at him – and then laughed.

“On Tarth,” he said simply. “Far, far away – in an entirely different world.”

**

[“Come away with me,” Jaime said. “There’s so much more to life than the game of thrones.”

“I swore a vow,” Arthur said stiffly. “I am one of Prince Jon’s Kingsguard.”

Robert Baratheon’s agents had long knives, and an even longer reach. From the moment their group had been spotted on the docks at Sunspear, a hooded woman, a babe and three knights of the Kingsguard in poor disguise, spies and assassins had followed in their footsteps.

Arthur still bore the marks of the last attempt.

Jaime smiled wryly. “Well. No one will ever think to find him in the future.”] 

**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were certain – freedoms – allowed to men in this new world to which Jaime had brought them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. If I ever cherished any illusions that this would turn into a serious story, well - I was wrong. *hangs head in shame*

It was a beautiful day on Tarth, far away and in a different world.

“Come on, Jaime,” Jaime’s younger brother Tyrion called, laughing as he ran down to the ocean. “The waves are perfect.”

Jaime laughed and waved at him with his left hand, his right holding on to a curiously shaped board with three curving fins on the underside. He turned back to Arthur, grinning widely, though his green eyes were hidden by the mirrored glasses he wore against the sun.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it?” he asked. “There’s no other feeling quite like it.”

Arthur only smiled. “No thank you,” he said gravely. “I’m content to watch.”

Jaime laughed. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said, and planting his board in the sand, stripped off his shirt.

Arthur watched him, transfixed: he was barefoot, shirtless, his golden curls gleaming in the bright sun, his warm golden skin tanned all over, save for a paler line where the waistband of his knee-length shorts began. There was a black design inked into the skin at the small of his back; a stylised lion, snarling defiantly at the world. 

Jaime dropped his shirt into the sand at Arthur’s feet, threw him a laughing glance, and ran down to the water where he lay belly-down on the board and paddled out into the waves. 

“A curious pastime,” Ser Gerold said mildly, walking up behind him with young Prince Jon seated on his shoulders. “I’m told it’s very popular.”

Ser Oswald was carrying a basket filled with chilled food and drink. Lady Lyanna walked beside him, her pale face shaded by a wide-brimmed straw hat.

Lady Brienne followed up the rear carrying a number of towels and a large canopy – an umbrella – which would provide welcome shade.

“Jaime’s very good,” she said, beaming. “Just look at him.”

Arthur looked. He could not tear his eyes away.

That lithe, shirtless form was standing up on the board and riding the curling waves, his balance perfect, the golden sun and the thrown-up spray serving only to highlight the grace of it –

“Ser Arthur,” Lady Lyanna said gravely. “Come. Sit down with us.”

Ser Oswald threw him a sly look. “Have some cold water,” he said. “You look a bit flushed.”

**

There were certain – freedoms – allowed to men in this new world to which Jaime had brought them. Acts and inclinations that would have been horribly punished in Arthur’s own time were accepted – or at least tolerated – in this bright new future.

_There is no shame in love, whatever the manner of it,_ Jaime had said. _We are what we are._

Arthur could still feel the weight of his armour and his white cloak.

His vows were the heaviest burden of all.

And yet –

Just as in this bright new world, men – and women – were free to love as they pleased, so were they free to live their lives as they pleased, without oaths or fealty or service.

Jaime had chosen to cast off his armour and his cloak. He had repudiated his oaths, and now cared for nothing but himself and his chosen family.

**

[“You’re too hard on him,” Ser Oswald said. “You can’t expect him to remain unchanged by what happened.”

“His heart is still the same,” Ser Gerold said. “As true as ever.”]

**

After about an hour, Jaime came padding back up the sand, planted his board and cast himself down on a towel beside Arthur. He was grinning, clearly exhilarated, and his eyes were bright and unshadowed. Droplets of salt water ran down his chest and his back, over the tanned golden skin and even over the snarling lion tattoo.

But just at that moment Prince Jon threw himself into Arthur’s lap, giggling.

**

They stayed out on the beach throughout the long golden afternoon, swimming and playing.

Lady Brienne took Jaime’s board out into the waves, and if she was man-tall and awkward on the land, she was graceful and free in the water. Tyrion settled into the shade with a book almost as large as he was, and promised to watch over Prince Jon with Ser Oswald as Lady Lyanna went with Ser Gerold to stand knee-deep in the waves. 

Some of Jaime’s students from his swordfighting school greeted him with a cheerful wave and invited him to play _volleyball_ with them – a game that seemed to involve a number of shirtless young men – and a few women in attire that would have made a Dornishwoman blush – flexing their muscles, making unnecessary leaps and dives, and insulting each other’s manhood.

They seemed impossibly young. All except Jaime, who maintained just the slightest distance from the others.

It might have been a remnant of the constant awareness required of a royal bodyguard. It might simply have been the haughtiness of a Lannister of Casterly Rock. But whatever it was, it set Jaime just a little apart – and it drew Arthur’s eye irresistibly.

For a single, heart-stopping moment, Jaime turned away from the game, met Arthur’s transfixed gaze – and something _fierce_ passed between them.


End file.
